


Trust

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Naruto
Genre: Bondage, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-14 22:21:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13599630
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: Kakuzu doesn't trust anyone very well, but sometimes, with Hidan, he can come close.





	Trust

It’s strange, the way he loves this. Tied up and gagged, utterly at his partner’s mercy…

They get on like a forest fire, the pair of them. They argue and fight plenty, but there’s something about their personalities that just work together. Two cynical immortals, merciless shinobi, killers to the core. A masochist needs a sadist to be happy, like a puzzle piece needs its mate to make a picture.

Perhaps it’s a little odd, a little _backwards_ , that he loves this. He relishes the gag, smooth wooden ball clenched in his teeth, catching every little moan and whimper of appreciation he wants to make – and he wants plenty – only to turn the sound into muffled mewls. He loves the gag, but shouldn’t it be his loudmouth wearing it, his dear proselytizing priest?

He adores the stretch and twist of his limbs caught up and bound, despite their both knowing that it would be simple for him to escape if he so chose. He doesn’t choose, and that’s the point; this play at his own vulnerability, this power the albino holds over him, carefully, never overstepping his boundaries here. He might push all the buttons he can out of bed, but in the sheets, he’s respectful, almost reverent.

“Kakuzu,” He breathes in the darker man’s ear. The whisper of breath on such sensitive skin makes Kakuzu shiver. He knows he looks a fool this way, his long hair in tangles, his eyes hazy and distant. Hidan is good at this, too good perhaps; he says, “God, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, ‘Kuzu. I’ve only been workin’ for fifteen minutes and you’re a hot damn mess.”

Of course, Kakuzu can’t respond, can’t make anything more than another one of those hushed, keening whines the gag allows him. His jaw is already getting sore, and the leather straps around his face chafe, especially where they hit the stitches. Hidan runs fingers through his hair, kissing his temple; sometimes he’s gentle, but soon enough he’ll be all teeth.

“Mm, maybe I should _invest_ in a ring gag,” Hidan purrs, and laughs at the way Kakuzu’s brow furrows. “Let you make a little more noise, have myself a little more fun.”

He likes to tease, to taunt, but his fingers are gentle in Kakuzu’s hair, soothing him before he can really get riled up over it. Because they both understand that while Kakuzu enjoys this chance to be _vulnerable_ , he doesn’t appreciate the idea of being _used_.

But Hidan likes to toe the line sometimes, even as he’s worshipping Kakuzu’s body.

A kiss is pressed to his cheek, right above the strap of the gag, and then Hidan is sinking back down again, fingers lingering on Kakuzu’s chest to trail down, curling into slow claws as they approach his hips, nails biting in and clutching the flesh there. His mouth starts off gentle; ghosting, then soft kisses, firmer, until he’s sucking lingering bites into Kakuzu’s thighs, making him gasp and moan, tense against his bonds.

He’s never known religion or holiness or worship, but he imagines the way Hidan makes him feel in these moments, must be something like exultation. He feels wholly swept up, his hearts beating asynchronously, heavy and fluttering and straining like to burst free. It’s Hidan that does this to him, for him, and for a few minutes he’s free of his anger and unburdened of the tension that rides him.

It’s not often that they do this. He doesn’t have it in him to trust anyone for very long, not even the man he’s had assigned to him as his partner in Akatsuki. He doesn’t _fear_ Hidan, but he can’t always trust him, either, much to the preacher’s disappointment. Hidan is unique among shinobi, and it is his immortality, Kakuzu thinks, that allows such recklessness in him. _He_ after all believes with all his little black heart that some people – not many, but some – are worthy of a man’s full trust.

A lover is one such trustworthy person, he asserts. Pouts over it, even, when Kakuzu finds himself incapable of winding down well enough to lay with him.

A lover knows how best to kill you, Kakuzu thinks, uncomfortable suddenly despite his arousal, feeling naked in a way that has nothing to do with his state of undress. A lover is the most dangerous thing a shinobi can bring into their life, and yet…

And yet Hidan’s mouth on his inner thigh is a blessing, teeth digging in with full intent to bruise, to bloody. Kakuzu is a sadist, but there’s a sweet masochistic streak in him that’s been there ever since he was a young man, still earning the right to wear his forehead protector. He’s simply never trusted anyone enough to confess it before, much less let them touch him this way.

Hidan sometimes calls himself lucky, and Kakuzu’s never been able to figure out if that’s facetious or not, lucky to be allowed this close, lucky to be the one Kakuzu lets in. It’s hard to say if it’s a joke or not; Kakuzu has half gutted the Jashinist in his anger at least twice, broken his bones and dragged his severed head off the ground by the hair. Not that Hidan doesn’t like these exchanges on some sick levels; he’s more masochist than sadist, another oddity in a shinobi.

But when Hidan calls himself lucky, he doesn’t understand fully that in the long ninety-one years of life Kakuzu has trudged through, he’s never, _ever_ trusted another person enough to let them see this fantasy of his. He would never allow himself to be gagged, much less tied up, so what if they both know he could break his bonds at any time. He _is_ lucky, damn lucky as far as Kakuzu cares to see it, because anyone allowed to see so much of him should feel privileged

So, he always pushes the anger back as much as he can, binds and seals and buries it in his mind for later, when Hidan sulks about how little he trusts him. Because they’ll come back to moments like these, where Kakuzu cares about nothing in the world, not money, not death, not his ever-present rage, but Hidan and how he makes him feel.

By now he’s sweating, Hidan having bared his teeth, bloody and sharp, over the head of his cock just to watch Kakuzu’s eyes widen and then squeeze shut. Permission, acquiescence; Hidan will either maim him or he won’t, and for now, Kakuzu is trusting him with that choice.

He shivers when a tongue swirls over him, gentle and fleeting. Hidan is talented; in a few minutes Kakuzu’s flagging erection is at full mast, almost aching. His thoughts are hazy, hungry, and Hidan brings him so close before he pulls away.

A blink and Hidan is back nuzzling his neck, kissing at an old bite wound on his shoulder. Hidan likes leaving marks, welts and bruises that last for days, aching to remind Kakuzu who made them, who he _let_ make them. He hummed softly, kissing his way up, and Kakuzu sighed into the gag, arching his neck to give the other man more room.

“You want this off,” Hidan asks, his voice barely above a whisper, slipping a finger along the band of the gag. “I wanna hear you this time.”

Kakuzu has to think a moment before he responds. He can’t quite trust that saccharine tone his lover uses, but by the same token he’s sunk so far into this headspace it’s hard to think for himself. He wants to make Hidan happy, wants to get him off, wants him to feel good. After a few seconds, he grants a slow nod, and Hidan’s long, narrow fingers deftly unbuckle the closure, gently sliding the whole gag forward, kissing the red marks left behind.

He can’t help working his jaw a little; it feels stiff and abused. Hidan lets him have a moment before kissing him, tossing the gag aside. It’s a different sort of kiss than when Kakuzu is in charge; there’s teeth in Hidan’s kisses, teasing his lips, nipping at his tongue, until Kakuzu finally gives him what he wants and bites his lower lip, hard, flooding both their mouths with the taste of copper.

A moan, Hidan arching back, pressing his hips forward so the hard length of his cock digs into the plane of Kakuzu’s stomach. “Top or bottom, babe?” He’s all but bouncing in the larger man’s lap, eager and excited.

“You know what I –”

Fingers press to his lips, and he suddenly can feel how red his face has gone. “I wanna hear you _say_ it.”

It doesn’t really surprise Kakuzu to hear, but it makes him wary nonetheless. Is there some ulterior motive? He can imagine too many ugly things to focus on any one idea, and he frankly isn’t ready to give up on this scene yet. Especially not when Hidan’s eyes are half lidded, violet irises dark in the low light, his expression hungry and eager.

Leaning up, pulling against the ties that bind him to the headboard, he murmurs in Hidan’s ear; “Want you in me.”

That’s enough for Hidan, who has to know how difficult it would be for Kakuzu to voice even that quiet of a confession. The albino nestles between his legs, propping his hips up and spreading them at the thigh, so they’re straining their bonds in a way that burns from knee to hip in a way that flirts between pleasant and not.

It’s always like this, this position, this explicit communication. Even when Kakuzu keeps the gag on, Hidan asks, Kakuzu nods, and only then do they proceed. But Kakuzu can’t stand the idea of being taken from behind, nor would he ever do so to Hidan – a shinobi must always keep their eye on a potential threat, and there’s no bigger threat than someone you’ve invited this close.

Muttering little endearments littered with curses and growls, Hidan makes the act of prepping them both into something drawn out and heady. It all feels so indulgent, so wasteful of time for something that will payout no monetary dividends, but it’s blissful, glorious flesh. Heat and slick and hard and _oh don’t stop_ ; it’s everything Kakuzu didn’t know he wanted.

It’s… sweet.

And when Hidan pushes inside him, he winces at the burn, the stretch that feels like being torn just a little. He moans from behind his teeth, missing his gag and the way it swallowed all these unnecessary, whining little sounds. But Hidan kisses at his collarbone, kisses at his jawline, kisses him and says, “ _God_ , I love those perfect fuckin’ bitch noises you make.”

He laughs and it’s breathless, hitching in a way that’s too close sob, and then that sound is becomes a long, drawn out groan as Hidan sets a torturous pace. Slow and sharp motions, Hidan’s hands greedily tracing over him, following the lines of old, stitched scars and the fluttering planes of muscle.

“Kuzu, babe, please… I need…” Hidan breathes, hips beginning to stutter as they snap in harder each time. He’s starting to lose his cool, and Kakuzu knows what Hidan needs to get him completely off.

The threads that burst from his back lift him some, and he has to take care not to tear through the silk ropes that so luxuriously bind him to the bed as they surge up around him and dig into Hidan’s back, tearing flesh, seeking bone. Hidan _moans_ , grinning and bleeding and thrusting all the wilder. Kakuzu is panting, whining softly, so close, so incredibly _close_.

But it’s not until he feels the spasm of Hidan cumming buried deep inside him, that he can find his own release. And it’s then that he misses the gag most, because the noise that leaves him is loud and wavering, positively _performative_ except for the fact that he is unable to control it; nothing about it is put on at all. Hidan would likely call the sound whorish if he were in a speaking way, but he’s too busy falling back against the mess of threads still dug into his flesh, reveling in the completion.

Those threads slowly retract, pulling back where they belong, careful and neat. It feels good to relax back into the bed, resting on his bound arms.

Hidan takes his sweet time pulling out and cleaning them both up ad, of course, untying Kakuzu. He likes having Kakuzu tied up because as long as Kakuzu is tolerating that, it means he’s got his trust, and that’s everything to Hidan; trust, which cannot exist between shinobi, is everything to Hidan.

Once he finally does untie Kakuzu, starting with one ankle, then the next, lounging across his chest to untie the ones around his wrists. Kakuzu can finally sink down into the pillows, relaxing as much as one can when naked around someone who knows all your weak points. Hidan settles into his arms, cuddling up close and giving a sleepy kiss to the older man.

“You were fuckin’ amazing, ‘Kuzu,” Hidan murmurs, praise that is as sweet as it is unwarranted. “I love seein’ you get into that bottom space.”

“Shut up, Hidan,” Kakuzu replies, but fondly, as his threads stretch out from his shoulders to turn off the light. “It’s time to sleep.”


End file.
